Chapter 4

4

- Anter’az -

I clench my hand, feeling the stickiness of my own blood and the sting from the cuts. Alba got me to do that, for only the second time in my life swearing a holy oath.

I’m feeling dizzy. Sweet Ancestors, is it true? Do they have a magical ability to make us weak? Now I’ve lied to my chiefs about what happened, and I have put myself in danger of being cast out!

Pulling myself together, I rinse my hand in tepid water. “Oh no, I’m not the shaman. Our shaman is right now busy drinking frit with your friends. My tribesmen come to me when they’ve hurt themselves, and I do my best to help them. Some call that a healer.” I get a roll of loose-grained bruk skin and weave it around my fingers.

“I think everyone calls that a healer,” Alba says and leans back in the chair where I place the tribesmen when they need my attention. “But I never seen a healer cave like this.”

“It suits me. Although I wonder if the men would hurt themselves less if I wasn’t here to help.”

“I heard what you say to chiefs. About me and the rekh. I not remember it like that.”

“Nor do I,” I admit as I pour two mugs of my own supply of strong frit . “But I thought it would be a shameful thing if we were to turn away the only woman who’s ever visited our village. Indeed the only woman who has ever volunteered to have anything at all to do with the Krast tribe.”

“So shameful that you risk being cast out?”

I hand her one of the mugs. “So it seems. I’m as surprised as you are.”

She peers suspiciously into the mug. “What’s this?”

“We call it frit ,” I tell her. “It’s the same thing our tribesmen are drinking right now. Mine is a little stronger, perhaps, because I use it for healing. But it also has a better flavor. Well, I think it does.” I take a sip, never much enjoying the taste of the regular frit.

Alba sniffs the mug and takes a sip, too. Then she starts coughing, and water fills her eyes. “Is very strong.”

I quickly fill a mug with water and hold it out to her. “ Too strong, perhaps. Here, wash it down with water.”

She puts a palm up. “No, is all right. The frit is good.” She takes another sip to show me.

I look around my cave. Sweet Ancestors, was it always this messy? Was it always this dark? She must think I’m an absolute slob for not keeping my cave clean and tidy.

But at the very least, I should keep it brighter than this. The sun is setting, and the cave is dim.

“I will soon be back,” I tell her and duck out of the opening.

Outside, I stop and just breathe for a moment. The whole thing feels completely unreal: There’s a woman in my cave .

And not just that. It’s Alba, the one woman who hasn’t left my thoughts since she pointed her spear at me just a few days ago. I was sure I would never see her again. And now she’s in my cave.

But at what cost? I admitted to my crime in front of the whole tribe. I doubt they will cast me out, though. My standing in the tribe is far too strong, to the point where I’m being talked about as the next chief of the Krast. Those chances are certainly gone now. Nobody who’s broken one of the few rules of the tribe can be chief and claim any right to command men who have always followed the laws.

Well, perhaps that’s for the best. I have no particular desire to be chief. But I can’t deny I found it flattering to be considered worthy of that position by at least some of my tribesmen.

I open and close my hand. The cuts have started burning, reminding me of my crazy act. I swore an oath simply to reassure her. I just couldn’t stand her not trusting me not to kill her. Surely she can’t have thought that I was going to? But my comment about it not being too late was strange. In my shock at seeing her in the village, even left in my custody, I simply said the first thing that came through my mind.

So far, my idea that women don’t make us weak is not looking too good. Alba has demonstrably weakened me and made me do and say the strangest things.

I take a deep breath. I can’t be sure yet. All of this can be explained by the surprise of seeing her again. I need more evidence before I can state for a fact that Alba, and all other women, are agents of Darkness. If I get it, I may have to actually kill her.

“For the good of the tribe,” I mutter as I walk towards the common stores to get some torches. “And for all tribes.”

I’m still picking out the best torches when the screams begin.